


Love Letters

by Catseatingmuffins



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bullies, Cuban Lance (Voltron), Dancing, Depression, Flirty Lance, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith Wears Contacts/Glasses, Lance (Voltron) Speaks Spanish, Lance Is An Amazing Dancer, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Orphan Keith (Voltron), Pining Keith (Voltron), Singing Lance (Voltron), They/Them, klance, two-way pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-01 03:47:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18328013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catseatingmuffins/pseuds/Catseatingmuffins
Summary: Anything to drown out the noise~OR~Keith has a problem and no one else knows





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I figured, Lance is usually represented as the one with the private problems, while Keith is just clueless, so I thought: I'm gonna make Keith's life living hell for a bit. Why? I don't know, well, hope you enjoy it! :)

     “Love isn’t something to play with. Someone can get hurt.” Came the monotonous reply. “Whatever girl this is, you’d better be careful with her. Hearts are fragile.” The boy turned and left the room, whispering to himself: “Especially mine.”


	2. Back To School Partayyy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one where Pidge regrets their choices.

    Pidge sat quietly on the faded green couch, observing the cacophonous party and enjoying their cold, delicious drink. Soon, a familiar face came to sit beside them, shuffling around the crowds of people anxiously. Keith flopped beside Pidge on the sagging sofa and sighed. Pidge looked over and smiled at the boy, but Keith wasn’t looking at them. Pidge followed Keith’s eyes to the door they had both entered at the start of the party. They opened their mouth to reassure the socially awkward boy but Keith interrupted them.

 

“What are you drinking?” Keith asked as he eyed the sweating cup, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. Pidge smirked and handed the container of unknown liquid to Keith, not answering his question. Keith looked at Pidge, then the drink, then back to Pidge. He began to protest and hand the drink back, but Pidge pushed it towards him relentlessly.

 

“C’mon Keith, it’s the last day of freedom! We have classes tomorrow and you definitely won’t get a chance like this once the piles of homework starts.” Pidge pushed the glass closer to Keith and the boy rolled his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows. Finally, he sighed and lifted the drink to his chapped lips, taking a small sip. Immediately he began coughing and nearly dropped the drink, quickly handing it back to Pidge, who was laughing hysterically as they watched the scene play out.

 

“What the hell was that?” Keith sputtered out, still coughing. Pidge continued laughing and shook their head, unable to speak through their laughter. Keith grunted at Pidge and stood, heading to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

 

Ten minutes later, Pidge found Keith slightly stumbling in the direction of the couch again, this time with a half-empty drink in his hand. The content smile slid away from Pidge’s face as they ran up to the clumsy Keith. Keith mumbled something severely incoherent, dried tears on his soft face, and Pidge slid a steady arm around his shaking shoulders. Pidge carefully got Keith to their car, maneuvering through the claustrophobic crowds and leading him to their car laying him in the backseat as gently as they could. Slowly, to avoid jostling the now-snoozing boy, Pidge drove to Keith’s dorm.

 

The college ( _College Of Lions_ ) had student dorms that were separated into six buildings; (It was a really big college) There were three for the girls and three for the guys. This aggravated Pidge, who didn’t identify with either of the groups, so they just bought an apartment. It was easier than being mistaken as a boy in the girl’s dorm and being mistaken as a girl in the boy’s dorm. _Oh well._

 

Pidge found it was easier to carry the small boy rather than help him stumble around. Keith made no objections to the adjustment, Pidge was much stronger than they looked. Once Keith was quietly asleep on his couch and Pidge was thoroughly exhausted from the night’s turn of events, they pulled a blanket over the drunk boy and stuffed his keys in a flower pot in the corner.

 

As Pidge drove to their apartment, aching for a shower, they made a mental note to text Keith where his dorm keys were.

 

Finally, Pidge made it home to their messily organized home. A glance of worry entered their overworked mind, but Pidge shrugged the idea off. _Keith will be fine, he’s just a lightweight._


	3. Hangovers and Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing like waking up to a hangover on the first day of school, right? Oh well, maybe it'll get better.

 

    Keith woke up to a massive pounding in the front of his head and the  _ very _ sudden feeling of nausea. He ran to his bathroom, emptying out the night’s events in the toilet. Rubbing his temples, Keith grimaced at the still-present headache. He went to take a Tylenol to hopefully dull the throbbing in his brain, but the buzzing of his phone on the counter distracted him. Slowly, he retrieved it and read the most recent text from Pidge.

 

**_Pigeon Kid_ ** :  _ “Hey Keith, you drank about half your weight last night, so I drove you home. Your room keys are in the plant pot by the door. Don’t be late on your first day ;)” _

 

Keith groaned as bits and pieces of memories stitched themselves together. He had gone to some stupid party with Pidge and they offered him a drink. He knew the risk when he took it; his foster families had a history of drinking and leaving half-empty bottles lying around for the taking. Keith had still accepted the drink, and the downward spiral had begun. He’d forgotten how good the burn of alcohol felt sliding down his throat. _Shit_ _don’t think about that right now._ Keith scolded himself and shook his head, delving further into his memories of last night.

 

He had run off after the drink, feeling the alcohol seeping into his blood. He wanted more,  _ needed _ more. He had to get more, it would block out the people, he could be happy if he got that  _ one more  _ drink. Soon, Keith could no longer trace his memories of the night and he resumed his hunt for medication to drown out his stampeding headache.

 

Once Keith had retrieved his jingling keys from the plant pot and taken the pain-dulling medicine, he headed to his room to get dressed for class. He opened his small closet, reaching for a normal, black shirt, but drew his hand back slowly in slight shock when he realized they were all gone. Keith groaned and looked over his shoulder at the laundry basket that held his dirty wrinkled shirts and, sadly, his favourite jacket. (The jacket had gotten drinks spilled on it at the party.) On top of this, his gloves were nowhere to be found.

 

_ Great, the perfect start to the first day of school. _

 

Keith muttered to himself grumpily, but resigned to picking out a soft, light-grey sweatshirt (It was too big for him but whatever, comfort comes before fashion, he wasn’t  _ that  _ gay) and black skinny-jeans. He texted Pidge his thanks with a slight blush of embarrassment dusting his face and walked to the bathroom to put in his contacts; he hated how he looked in his black rectangular glasses. He only wore them when he woke up in the mornings and on “lazy days” when he wouldn’t see anyone and no one would see him.

 

Now that he was more awake, (and his headache was just a dull droning in the back of his tired mind) Keith grabbed an apple, threw his school bag over his shoulder, and walked out of the front door of his dorm room to the campus, stretching his arms up when he stepped outside the dorm.

 

The college was within walking distance of all of the dorms, so Keith pushed his hands in his pockets and let himself enjoy the peace and nature of the aromatic college gardens. Soon, he came around to the front entrance and quietly went in. It was early enough that there weren’t crowds of people, but it wasn’t as early as he would have been if he hadn’t gone to that stupid party.

 

“I am never drinking again.” Keith muttered to himself, rubbing his temples as his headache began to pulse again. He headed to the nearest bathroom to splash some water on his face and hopefully distract himself from the throbbing in his mind. When he looked at the mirror, his long hair caught his eye. To keep his black bundles of hair dry, he pulled it up with a thin, grey hair tie.  _ Need to get that cut.  _ He thought to himself, staring at his reflection.

 

Keith jumped when his mentor Shiro walked in. Shiro seemed equally surprised, but smiled at Keith and waved. Keith lifted the corners of his mouth and raised his hand, making his way to the exit. Shiro, still tired, didn't try to stop the boy, but he had a creeping suspicion that something was off with his shy pupil.

 

Once Keith found his way to his art class, Drawing, he plopped in a back-row seat and laid his head on his arms, which rested gently on his desk. Once the bell rang, Keith watched people file into the halls and disappear into different classes. He was always early, it was an easy way to avoid the crowded halls during “rush hour.”

 

Eventually, students began to file into the classroom, disregarding the previous peace that had been occupying the space. Keith examined the kids that bustled into the room:  _ Nerd, Jock, Prep, Cheerleader, Cheerleader, Cheerleader, Jock, Jock, Nerd, Nerd, Prep, Nerd, Nerd, oh-” _

 

At first glance, he looked like a Jock, but he was too skinny to belong to that classification, he was too loud to belong to the nerds, and he almost reminded Keith of a cheerleader, but without the snobby. He was tall and lanky, with short brown hair and breathtakingly bright blue eyes. He was his own species. He walked in a way that drew the oxygen from the room, forcing all eyes to focus on him and-  _ Oh God he’s coming this way. _

 

Keith drew in a sharp breath and tore his eyes from the boy, focusing on his table. The boy began to walk past-  _ wait _ … He slid into the seat beside Keith at the desk.

 

“This seat taken?” He asked, patting the black rectangular desk they were seated at. Keith, shocked, met his eyes. 

 

_ Your voice is beautiful. _ “No, you can sit here if you want.”  _ You have the most amazing blue eyes.  _ “It’s not taken.”  _ You are so pretty _ .

 

“-ou okay? Buddy? Hello?” Keith mentally shook himself and looked away from the boy, trying to still his shaking hands.

 

“I’m sorry, I got lost in thought. What did you say?” Keith spoke quietly, as if scared. The boy simply smiled and shrugged off Keith’s lack of concentration.

 

“What’s your name?” The breathtaking boy asked, turning to face Keith and leaning against the desk. Keith’s brain decided to stop working and he stuttered quietly, searching for words. Finally, he whispered his name.

 

“Keith. I’m Keith.” Keith was so quiet, he didn’t think blue-eyes would hear him, but the boy smiled and held out a hand. Shakily, Keith took it, his pulse vibrating through his veins.

 

“I’m Lance, nice to meet you Keith.” Keith nearly gasped at the way Lance made his name sound. He didn’t let it fall out of his mouth like it disgusted him, he didn’t spit it out with anger. He said it kindly, welcomingly. Keith needed to get away from this boy. He couldn’t afford to crush on someone right now, especially this super confident, beautiful, kind, obviously hetero guy sitting right beside him.

 

Keith pushed down the fluttery feeling in his stomach. He had loved once, he couldn’t do it again,  _ couldn’t _ . Keith forced away his racing heart, taking slow, calming breaths and continuing the sketch he had started last week, but never returned to.

 

It was a picture of a little boy, his back resting tiredly against a large oak tree, which was bending over and shading him with soft branches. The tree formed a protective shell around the boy, but the sun seemed to radiate off of the page, burning the leaves and branches at the top of the tree. However, the little boy was oblivious to such danger and pain the tree was in, and the tree continued protecting the boy, shielding its child from the harsh evil of the sun.

 

Keith, consumed by his art, didn’t notice the eyes trailing over his paper, or the small gasp coming from only a few inches to his right. Suddenly, and much to Keith’s surprise, a voice whispered almost directly into his ear. “Wow, this is amazing! I wish I could draw like you.” Keith jolted and slammed the sketchbook shut, facing Lance with a blush of embarrassment and shyness, he’d never shown his art to anyone but his art teacher. Lance rolled his chair back to his side of the desk, lifting his hands in surrender.

 

“I’m sorry bro, you just looked so deep in thought, wanted to see what was causing a face like that.” Lance patiently explained, his face widening into a smile. Keith stamped down his fluttering heart and turned his eyes away from Lance’s.

 

“Don’t call me bro.” Keith said, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyebrows were furrowed in result of the pain of pushing away his ever-present feelings.

 

Lance’s smile faltered. “What?”  He asked, confused by the angered face Keith seemed to be making. Keith huffed out a short breath and repeated himself.

 

“I said don’t call me bro.” Keith glanced at Lance’s fallen face and felt the terrible feeling of guilt, an emotion he tried to get rid of constantly. Lance quickly regained his composure and his signature smile found its way to his clear, tan face.

 

“Alright, I’ll just call you ‘Keef’ then.” Lance joked, adding in a lisp to Keith’s name, teasing the boy. Keith hoped he wasn’t as red as he felt. He shook his head, forcing a chuckle out of his throat.

 

“You’re something else, Lance.” He admitted shakily, causing slight surprise to spark in the other’s chest. Lance grinned.

 

“Thanks Keef, I try my best.” Keith rested a cheek on his hand, allowing himself to stare at the boy while he smiled cheekily, blue eyes sparkling. Keith let himself smile too, for the first time that day.

 

Lance opened his eyes to see what Keith’s reaction to his nickname would be and his eyes widened a bit when he spotted the small, but dazzling smile the boy was producing. He wanted to see that smile more often. Keith slowly turned his gaze back to the sketchbook and flipped to the page he had been working on.

 

Lance, noticing Keith’s intense focus in his art once more, began to roll his wheeled chair closer to the artist. Keith didn’t notice, his mind completely on the drawing he was shading in, and soon Lance was close enough to see the rustle of Keith’s breath fluttering the long bangs that dangled in his eyes. Lance was surprised at how close he was able to approach the unsuspecting boy, nearly brushing shoulders as an idea formed in his head.

 

Lance’s mind flickered back to the first words they’d spoken to each other, where Keith had stuttered a mess of words in an attempt just to tell Lance his name. A slight smirk found its way to Lance’s face and he quickly acted before he could think logically enough to change his mind. Lance laid his head on Keith’s shoulder, snuggling into the soft fabric of Keith’s sweater, smiling like a sly child when Keith tensed up.

 

Lance felt the swish of Keith’s hair as the boy turned to look at him, he closed his eyes and over exaggerated a yawn. Keith felt a blush rising along his neck and face. He glanced around the classroom, warily looking for spectators, but none were interested in the display Lance was putting on. Keith hissed out a question, quiet and shaky.

 

“What are you doing?” He asked, careful to keep his voice low. Lance smiled without opening his eyes.

 

“Taking a nap.” He answered simply, as if it was normal to lay your head on a near stranger when tired. Keith felt himself cock his head to the side in confusion, why was this ‘cool kid’ interacting with him? Lance chuckled softly and opened his eyes, gasping at the sudden realization of how close his face was to Keith’s. As Lance studied Keith’s flustered expression, he noticed a few things.

 

  1. Keith had perfectly clear skin, free of acne and blemishes.
  2. The blushing boy had violet eyes that seemed to have flecks of gold hiding in the background.



and

  1. His hair was tied up carefully in the back, while the front half hung around his face, framing his gentle features and sometimes falling over his eyes.



 

Keith, once he realized Lance was staring, appeared to fluff up like a cat, blushing and turning away from Lance. Lance smiled and moved his head from Keith’s shoulder, instead resting his cheek on an outstretched arm, laying on the desk lazily. Keith looked at the boy incredulously, Lance was trying to look at his drawing. Keith placed arm around his art and continued drawing with his left hand, thankful for his ambidextrousness.

 

Lance huffed out a pouty breath and moved his head to rest gently on Keith’s arm, allowing him a vantage point to watch as Keith reluctantly began sketching the elegant lines that outlined the boy’s face in, eyeing Lance in defeat. Lance just watched in silence, the sound of pencil on paper soothing him.

 

Keith looked down to Lance, who was intently focusing on Keith’s art, paying close attention to the slight movements of the boy’s hand. Keith smiled a small smile and felt his spirits lift, maybe he could start the year off with a friend? Well, he had Pidge, the sneaky devil , but they were more like family than a friend.

 

Keith jumped in his seat, startled, when the bell announced the end of class. Quickly, he closed his sketch pad and gently slipped it into his bag, taking a step to leave. He paused when he felt a hand on his arm. Keith turned around to face Lance, immediately noticing the height different between the two. Lance smiled when he realized he had to look down slightly to meet Keith’s eyes.

 

“It was nice to meet you Keef, what’s your next class?” Lance asked, beginning to walk with Keith towards the door. Keith told him; it was aerobics and athletics, and Lance tilted his head, frowning slightly in thought. “I have a free hour, soo can I come to your class and watch?” Lance asked. He had leaned against the wall in the hallway beside Keith’s locker. Keith shrugged as he put his bag into the red container, closing the tin door and facing Lance with a small smile.

 

“Would I be able to stop you?” Keith asked, eyeing Lance with an arched up eyebrow. Lance laughed as he began following Keith.

 

“I mean, I’d probably find a way.” Lance said with a smile, swerving through the crowds of people to tail Keith. The small boy definitely knew how to maneuver halls without anyone touching him.  _ Wait- _ “Hey!” Lance yelped as the boy was ambushed, tackled into the lockers. Lance pushed through the bustling people and soon found Keith, pressed up against the noisy lockers by his hands, a muscular student standing over him threateningly. Keith, much to Lance’s surprise, seemed more threatening than the bully, contrasting the shy boy he’d seen in Art.

 

Keith growled when the figure stepped closer to him, transferring both of Keith’s wrists to one hand while he reached to yank Keith’s hair with the other. Keith let out a shout of pain as his hair was pulled back. Lance, a film of anger coming over his eyes, approached the attacker and rested his elbow on the guy’s shoulder, the kid was shorter than Lance. The guy turned around, confused, and was met with a fist to the face, enough to bruise the area around his left eye. The boy released Keith in shock and stood to face Lance, violence making his face bright red. Lance smiled a wide, terrifying grin.

 

The guy seemed to have a flicker of doubt before deciding a fight wasn’t worth it, grunting at Lance and roughly shouldering past him. He cast a glare at Keith and Lance turned to him with a cruel smile, a warning. Keith snarled at his attacker and swiftly began walking down the hallway, not giving Lance time to catch up. Lance, noticing Keith speeding away, hurried to catch up with him, and came to a walk beside the boy.

 

“Hey, are you al-” Lance began to ask, but he was cut off when Keith gripped his shirt and pushed him into the lockers, the hall they were in was void of people. Lance was thoroughly surprised at the change in Keith’s demeanor, and he blinked unsteadily when Keith’s violet eyes were dark and angry.

 

“I don’t need you to  _ rescue _ me. I was fine by myself. I’m not some weak nerd, ok?” Keith spat, his emotions getting the best of him. The taller boy in front of him gulped and nodded, his eyes trailing over the pained features on Keith’s face. Keith, as if a flip was switched, let go of the death grip he’d had on Lance’s shirt, slowly backing away and muttering a quiet; “I- I’m sorry.”

 

Keith attempted to escape, turning to walk down the hallway, but he was stopped by a hand gripping his wrist and pulling him backward. Keith thought he was going to fall. _I deserve it, with all I’ve just done to Lance._ _I can’t believe I let my anger through again._ But he was drawn instead into steady arms.

 

_ A hug? _

 

Keith felt himself instinctively pulling away from the contact, unused to physical contact. Lance felt the tension in Keith’s shoulders and let go, a frown finding a way to his face.  _ Right, people are weird about physical contact here unless it’s in family. _ Lance recalled his friends reaching him about the etiquette of American schools early on, but his habits had continually stayed with him. Physical contact had always been a big part of his life, he was a natural hugger.

 

Keith, sensing the lack of danger, shakily turned around and met Lance’s eyes, almost losing himself in the deep blue colour. Lance felt the corners of his mouth lift up as Keith’s eyes trailed over his face. “Look,” Keith began. “I’m really sorry. My anger gets the best of me sometimes and… I can’t afford to look weak here. I do appreciate your help, I would’ve been okay by myself, but thank you anyway. It’s not smart to go against Rufio head to head.” Keith shook his head, speaking from experience. “But I guess it’s a good thing he’s never won a fight with me.” Lance smiled when he heard the pinch of pride in Keith’s voice.

 

Keith dropped his eyes and resumed his walk to the gym where his classes were held. Lance, at the wave of a hand, immediately followed.

 

_ Oh wow _

 

Keith was flexible, a task made easier with his lean body and overall “smallness,” but Lance was not expecting him to be able to wrap his hands around his feet, stretching the muscles in his legs. Lance slumber up into the bleachers, pulling out his phone and setting it beside him on the bench. Lance looked up once more and was shocked once more, this time with the sight of Keith fully leaning down into a backbend, his shirt falling up and revealing the tight muscles underneath. Keith had his attention now.

 

Lance leaned back against the wall, (he’d climbed to the very top bleacher) and surveyed the room, his eyes trailing back to Keith to find him standing still.  _ What is he- OH MY GOD WHAT?! _ Lance gasped as Keith slid into the splits, tilting his head to look at Lance just as he completed the splits.

 

Lance was blushing, _blushing_! Keith had made the fear look so easy and elegant. _How flexible is he?_ _Woah Lance, let’s focus away from that thought._ Lance was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open as he gawked at the boy, why was still resting in the splits and proceeded to smile at Lance before continuing his stretches. A voice echoing through the quiet space made both of the boy’s jump, and Keith rolled back and out of the splits, walking over to the announcer.

 

“Five minutes for refresher dance, then we start practice together. Don’t forget about the solo dances you’ve been working on over the summer. Alright,” Che clapped her hands with finality. “Hurry up, go practice!” Even though her voice was strict and professional, she had a smile on her face. Keith, along with the other students, nodded his head and returned to his space by the bleachers. Lance watched as Keith tapped out the beginning of a rut hem with his foot, his head lifting with a performing smile as he found the beat and began to dance.

 

Lance was mesmerized with the twists and turns that Keith seemed to slide into, always vigor and the talent of a hard-working perfectionist. The dance seemed contemporary, far from the traditional leaps and plies of ballet. Lance watched as Keith reached up, then brought his hands to rest behind his head, rolling his stomach and hips in a sensual dance that had Lance shaking. Keith brought his hands back forward with a snap, spinning himself around and stopping the twirl with a stomp. He leaned onto his right leg and began to descend, falling onto his knee and pressing his chest to the floor, the bounding up with a thrust of his strong arms. Crouching and springing into a pose that marked the end of the song in Keith’s head. Lance had to keep himself from applauding.

 

Keith looked up to Lance’s smiling gaze and felt a rising blush on his neck, traveling up to his cheeks when Lance winked and gave him a thumbs up. Now Keith heard the call of his teacher, Mrs. Marlom, and he trotted to his spot at the front center of the gym. Keith hated bragging, hated showing off, and absolutely hated being prideful, but a part of him seemed very happy to have the focus on him as he stood in the front line. Lance scooted towards the middle of the bleachers and smiled, excited to see what the group could do.

 

Keith shook himself out, falling instinctively into the starting pose as his peers did the same. Mrs. Marlom called out a five second warning and then the music was starting, and Keith put on a show. He knew he was being sassy, he knew he was going all out, and he also knew that this was probably his best performance of the entire summer they’d been working. Lance could only stare in amazement at the synchronization of the team as the jumped and twisted, bounced and spun.

 

When Keith stopped dancing, it felt like all of the oxygen fled the room. He had sweat slowly gliding down his cheek and his eyes were connected with Lance’s, a peculiar fire burning bright in the violet gaze. With the light shining down, Lance could see the specks of gold erupting into sight, making Keith’s stare unavoidable. Lance might not make it through the day if Keith keeps keeps looking like that.


End file.
